


Driving North

by violetsareblonde



Category: The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, Writing Prompt, driving north, extremely short
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-19
Updated: 2016-01-19
Packaged: 2018-05-15 00:52:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 270
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5765446
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/violetsareblonde/pseuds/violetsareblonde
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>19/1/16 Driving North Prompt</p><p>Wanda and Steve are fleeing the stings of their own wounds. It's better to drive north together than alone.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Driving North

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don't own this universe or the characters.
> 
> So, this is extremely short, but it's my first time dabbling with writing in the marvel universe...enjoy! :)

Her feet on the dashboard are painted ice blue. She wiggles her toes along with the music. He wants her to put some socks on, the snow falling outside making him nervous about the car breaking down. They have three hours left to reach the safe house. She doesn’t seem to care.

\--

When they reach the house, she opens the door and lets the snowfall tickle her nose. She tips her head back and a small smile graces her face as her tangled auburn curls fall around her back. 

“It’s cold,” Her accent is tickled with amusement, and she sets her bare feet on the ground without reserve, a laugh on her lips. 

“I’ll get the bags,” He says, swinging out of the car as the door rattles behind him. 

She loses her smile and slips her feet back into the boots on the floor of the car.

\--

The fire crackles against the hearth and she wrinkles her nose at the smell. 

“I hate the smell of fire and smoke.” She wraps her blanket closer around her, tries to forget the days not so far removed from her head. Of screaming civilians and ash and burning.

“I hate the ice.” He says, stoking the fire, thawing his wounds.

\--

The next morning she plays in the snow, letting the cool air and the ice melt against her glowing hands, freezing her losses.

He watches her from the window, steaming mug in his hand, and wonders if they’ll ever learn to get along.

\--

When their lips touch, there’s a mixture of fire and ice, and old and new wounds begin to heal.


End file.
